Gaga
by KitchenWitch1994
Summary: Trust Kirk to get a little too involved in an espionage mission-and make Spock suffer through Lady Gaga lyrics in the process. K/S yumminess. Rated T for minor language, a lil' seduction, and a jealous Spock.


**Gaga **

Spock clamped both sets of eyelids as tightly shut as he could, wishing he could do the same with his ears. The club was sheer sensory murder, with lights apt to give seizures and music that would almost certainly leave a ringing in his ears, but he had elected to go on the mission. Yes, of all the illogical, human things he could have done, he _elected _to go into this screaming madhouse with Kirk to identify Verzhon, the leader of an underground Romulan spy network, and "convince" him, through whatever means necessary, to surrender to Starfleet. And of course, whenever a mission involved espionage, Kirk automatically concocted a plan involving patrolling a raging nightclub and seducing whatever viable candidates he came in contact with.

Yes, it was a brilliant plan, except for the part where _he _was brought along, in human attire, as "back-up."

But he went along with it. How could he have refused, when Kirk's blue eyes went wide, with pupils dilated in what were commonly called "puppy eyes"? And, when he passed that test, how could he have resisted Kirk's innate charm, to which, unfortunately, he was not immune? Even when he had barely succeeded in resisting both those attempts, the sight of James Kirk in dark-wash blue jeans and a tight-fitting black t-shirt had washed all his Vulcan logic down the proverbial drain.

Spock sighed above his balled hands and shook his head minutely. That a black t-shirt on Kirk's chest had overpowered his faculties had to be one of the most embarrassing moments in his entire career.

A waitress, a slim, blonde woman wearing a midriff-baring top approached him, laden with drinks. "Can I get you something, cutie?" she chirruped, blatantly leaning onto the counter and exposing ample amounts of cleavage.

"I do not imbibe, madam," Spock answered, wondering vaguely how she could hear him over the pounding bass line.

The blonde made a disapproving face and put a hand on her hips. "Then why are you in the middle of a wet bar with that look on your face?"

"I am…" he paused, searching for an appropriate human term. "I am the designated driver."

The blonde's eyes went wide for a second, then winked good-naturedly. "Have fun with that. We have some non-alcoholic drinks, if you get thirsty."

"I am adequately hydrated," Spock muttered, but the waitress either ignored him or did not hear him and flounced away.

The crowd on the dance floor suddenly burst into tumultuous applause and catcalls, presumably because the song had finished. How they could tell it was over was beyond Spock's current mental capacity, because he could still hear a beat pounding a tattoo into his skull. He swept a glance over the crowd and immediately spotted Kirk, with a mouth wide open in cheering. His face seemed flushed, and Spock assumed he had quaffed at least one glass of Andorian ale.

_It appears I shall be the designated driver after all,_ Spock thought, half amused and half annoyed.

"Glad y'all liked that track," droned the baritone of the disc-jockey, his voice issuing from the speakers around the club. "Right now we're going a little more retro with a good lady friend of mine. Playing 'Starstruck' now."

The crowd burst into another round of applause, this time almost too loud for Spock to hear the new lyrics blaring from the speakers, a female voice even more synthesized than that of the disc-jockey.

"_Groove, slam, work it back; filter that, baby, bump that track."_

Spock rolled his eyes. Humans had the strangest taste for electronic backbeats and nonsense lyrics. The crowd was almost immediately back to its usual clamor and bright lights, and Spock was back to watching out for a sign from Kirk.

And by the sudden focusing of Kirk's blue eyes, he appeared to have identified a possibility.

Spock tried to follow Kirk's line of sight and his eyes narrowed. The man was indeed of Romulan or Vulcan descent, with pointed ears and appropriately slanted eyebrows, but without any visible facial markings it was impossible to determine which species he belonged to. But when Kirk approached the target—relatively slowly; Spock could see his feet matching the tempo of the song—the arched eyebrows swung upwards as he surveyed the blond. It was too much of an emotional display for a Vulcan to allow himself.

Kirk's mouth moved, the words lost over the throbbing beat of the music, but the Romulan nodded in agreement, flashed his teeth in a grin. Kirk started moving around the Romulan, swaying his hips side to side in what Spock could only fathom was a form of dancing. The movement was hypnotic, like the swinging of a pendulum, and Spock could hardly help staring at the lines of Kirk's hips.

"_Put your hands on my waist, pull the fader; run it back with original flavor. Cue me up on the twelve on your table—I'm so starstruck…"_

When the Romulan grabbed those hips and pulled them together, Spock felt his jaw clench. The action was far too rough, too disrespectful, and would likely leave bruises on his Captain's tanned skin. Even though Kirk did not wince, he could only imagine the pain it must have caused. Had it been Spock's hand, he would have been more careful—

Spock raised his right eyebrow in spite of himself. It was illogical to imagine what _he _would be doing with Kirk. He was not the target, and would never be. It was therefore illogical to feel jealousy towards the Romulan.

Especially when the arms of the Romulan in question wrapped around Kirk's trim waist to hold them together while the beat pounded on in the background. Especially when the Romulan proceeded to roll his hips towards Kirk's posterior in what was obviously a sexual manner. Especially when the Romulan's lips leaned towards Kirk's earlobe and nipped with teeth.

And _especially _when Kirk allowed the actions to continue with a wanton smile—and ground his hips back in return.

Spock clenched his hands into fists, so tightly he may well have broken skin, but he did not look away. It was taking every ounce of self-control he had not to stride on the dance floor and push the Romulan away, replace him. Not only self-control, but sanity and logic—Kirk was his superior officer, off-limits to that sort of activity. Not to mention he was only _pretending _to be homosexual, for the sole purpose of the mission.

Not that the Romulan was aware of the fact. A pale hand sneaked from Kirk's waist and down, onto the Captain's perfectly toned left thigh. The blue fabric of Kirk's jeans bunched from a tight squeeze.

Spock wanted to throw something.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. The waitress was back again, without drinks. Frustrated, Spock tried to wave her off. "Once again, I do not require refreshment."

"I know that, cutie." Her painted lips curled upwards in a knowing smile, as the disc-jockey supplanted the track and began rapping unintelligibly. "I'm pretty sure you'd rather have that tall glass of water on the floor."

"Excuse me?" Spock asked, bewildered by the vernacular.

"That hot blond dancing with tall, dark and pointy-ears." She nodded towards Kirk and the Romulan. "You've been staring at him for half the song, looking like you'll strangle the creep he's dancing with."

"That is an accurate assumption," Spock muttered, eyes still riveted to the aforementioned pair.

The blonde rolled her eyes and leaned in towards him again. "Look," she stage-whispered, "I know the song that's coming on in about thirty seconds. Wait 'til it comes on, then go down there and get your man."

Spock shook his head minutely. "I am not certain he would respond appropriately to my efforts," he said. _To pull him away,_ he thought fervently. _To keep him from danger._

"Oh, honey." The waitress waved her hand airily before motioning to Kirk's still-gyrating figure. "I've seen boys that _are _gay and boys that fake it, and that one is _so_ not faking." Playfully she bumped their hips together and went away.

Despite himself, Spock felt emboldened. Perhaps he could convince the pair to move into a more private location, incapacitate the Romulan, and beam the three of them aboard the _Enterprise._ Then the mission would be a success, and Kirk could receive proper medical attention to those bruises—

There was more movement from Kirk and the target. The Romulan's pale hands were on the move, up Kirk's side and towards his neck, tracing circles in the tan skin. Kirk tugged the Romulan's shirt, pulled the ears to Kirk's mouth. Vaguely Spock saw Kirk's mouth moving, and the Romulan's eyebrows swept upward again as he leered wickedly.

That leer.

The next song could have starting playing, but Spock did not notice. His brain was no longer processing auditory stimuli save for the blood pounding furiously throughout his body; the backbeat of the song was simply acknowledged as part of his heartbeat. He barely even realized he was standing, or that he was walking towards the crowd on the dance floor.

Kirk was holding the Romulan's hand, moving him towards the most secluded part of the club. That was all that mattered.

He kept his eyes focused on Kirk's retreating figure. The crowd proved to be no problem whatsoever; by the time Spock had approached the edge, Kirk and the Romulan had slipped away from it, so Spock simply veered around the crowd towards them. As silently as he could judge, he followed the pair beyond the red velvet curtains and into one of the unused back rooms.

Kirk and the Romulan entered the room before Spock did, but the door remained open, and Spock waited next to the frame. He controlled his breathing patterns for the first time since standing, made it slower and more even, and his hearing returned. He would hold himself a while, calm his furious blood, and keep his phaser on stun. Only when Kirk said something appropriate would he enter the room.

Behind him he could hear rustling and breathing that was more uneven than his own. The music from the dance floor was somewhat muffled, but the lyrics carried over: "_That boy is a monster…that boy is a monster, er, er-er-er…"_

He heard the harsh voice of the Romulan carry outside the room. "Didn't know Terran boys got so personal on the first date."

"I'm not _any_ Terran boy," was Kirk's almost breathy response. Again Spock found his blood roiling madly, and gritted his teeth to control himself.

"Obviously," the Romulan purred. Spock heard nails dragging up and down fabric. "When am I going to get my private show, Goldie?"

"Soon." Kirk made a noise like a kitten mewling, and Spock could only guess at what caused it. There was a giggle. "Need to know your name."

"Verzhon." There was a groan, then an approving growl. Spock kept silent, but inwardly he cursed. Trust James Kirk to successfully seduce a Romulan spy that should be sitting in the brig of the _Enterprise_ at this moment.

"Mmm…hot name," Kirk's voice droned. "Close your eyes for me, Verzhon?"

"Give me a reason why, Goldie."

"I'm a little shy," was the sotto-mumbled answer.

Verzhon chuckled roughly. "Alright, Goldie. Don't make me wait too long."

Spock chanced it and peered into the room. The lights were low, but he could make the two of them out. The Romulan's back was turned, as was Kirk's—_and Kirk was peeling off his black shirt._

Without waiting, Spock strode into the room, phaser in one hand, and nerve-pinched the back of Verzhon's sweaty neck. The Romulan collapsed to the floor without protest, and Spock knelt to ensure the pinch carried through. Now that he was close enough, he could see the rebel insignia tattooed onto the back of Verzhon's neck. At least Kirk had not been incorrect.

"Congratulations, Captain," Spock said wryly, his heart pumping too fast even for Vulcan physiology. "You have successfully apprehended the appropriate target, even if that was not your intention."

"My intention, Spock?" Kirk turned around, grinning. His cheeks no longer appeared as flushed as they had on the dance floor, and his shirt was lifted high enough to bare only his toned abdomen.

Spock swallowed the excess saliva that he had somehow produced. "You seemed fairly adamant on other pursuits when you led Verzhon into this room with you not two minutes ago."

Kirk shrugged and rolled his shirt back down. "I believe I said I could use whatever means were necessary, didn't I? I'm fairly sure seduction counts as 'whatever means necessary,' unless it's different for Vulcans."

"No," said Spock very slowly, "it is not different for my species." He trussed Verzhon quickly before standing and facing Kirk's glittering blue eyes. "Is there something you want, Captain?"

Kirk shook his head, looking incredulous. "Why, Spock," he chuckled, placing a hand over his chest in what Spock assumed was mock-aback, "don't tell me you're _jealous?"_

"I am anything _but _jealous, Mr. Kirk."

"We stepped up to 'Mr. Kirk' now?"

"Do you have a point to make?" Spock spat out, finally losing his temper. It was too much for him to deal with at the time. Verzhon's seduction, the furious jealousy it had created, Kirk's playful attitude and the accompanying fact that it was _still_ so attractive just because it was him, all on top of the music blaring _"He's a monster in my bed!"_—why did he have to bring him along and _keep _him standing here like a fool?

In a single, fluid move, Kirk stepped over Verzhon's motionless body and pressed his chest against Spock's. "You know how I got through touching that Romulan?"

"Easily, I assume," Spock retorted, wishing he could move backwards without tripping.

"I kept thinking," Kirk whispered, "what if Spock was dancing with me? Touching me?" He leaned in, close enough for his breath to ghost across Spock's cheek. "Kissing me?"

"You have not been kissed to my knowledge," Spock breathed. He couldn't stop looking at those blue eyes, couldn't help the blush creeping through him as they swept across his face, towards his lips. "Not tonight, at least."

Kirk nodded, eyes still trained on the Vulcan's lips. "Forgive me if I change that."

And he pressed his lips to Spock's and _kissed_, much gentler than Spock would have imagined possible. Kirk's lips were soft and smooth and glided across his with ease, almost as if he didn't care whether Spock kissed back. Indeed, Spock was too breathless to react, and by the time Spock had overcome his surprise to react Kirk had already pulled away, blue eyes seeming to glimmer beneath the low light.

Spock shook his head, pulled Kirk back by the wrists, and kissed him again more fervently. As if in relief, Kirk sighed and kissed back, as slowly as before, as if he was trying to calm the raging beast in Spock's chest that was illogically roaring approval. And Spock did slow down, let Kirk lead and pull him close, and the anger and the jealousy washed away in what could arguably been the sweetest kiss of recorded history.

They pulled away after what must have been several minutes, both of them blushing and wide-eyed. Kirk's mouth was half open, lips slightly swollen and curling into another fantastic smile. Though they were barely touching now, Spock could feel a wave of gratitude emanating from Kirk's mind—or was that what humans called affection? Both?

Suddenly, Kirk's communicator chirped from out of his back pocket. Without missing a beat, Kirk answered. "Here, _Enterprise."_

"_About damn time, Jim!"_ yelled the voice of Doctor McCoy. _"You've been in that bar going on four hours! Have you got Verzhon yet?"_

"Trussed up and ready to go now, Bones," Kirk replied, making a hand gesture for Spock not to speak. "You can thank Spock for most of the work."

"_Yeah, yeah, I know the way you are with that pointy-eared bastard of yours." _There was a huff of static. _"Seriously, Jim, when are you going to ask him that…ya know?"_

"I'm on it, don't worry." Kirk winked at Spock, who, of all the illogical reactions, felt his stomach flutter. "We have three to beam up from our current location, if that's not too much for Scotty."

"_I'll let him know. Just stay where you are, alright? _Enterprise _out."_

Kirk snapped the communicator closed and motioned towards Verzhon, who thankfully was still unconscious on the floor. "Best we get him out of here and onto the ship, huh?"

"Of course, Captain," Spock replied, still somewhat shaken by the kiss. He paused and raised his left eyebrow in curiosity. "What is this 'thing' that Doctor McCoy mentioned?"

Kirk's composure slipped. "That? You noticed that?" He laughed nervously and tousled his hair. "He…urm."

The eyebrow remained raised in the same cool fashion, although Spock found his heart beating faster than normal. "Yes?"

Kirk sighed. "Honestly? He wants to know when I'm going to get the balls to ask you out."

Were it not the most illogical possibility in the galaxy, Spock's eyebrows would have flown off his face in astonishment. "And what if I, as you would say, beat you to the punch?"

The blue eyes lit up ecstatically. "Really, Mr. Spock?"

"I shall formulate a more appropriate query," Spock went on, vaguely beginning to smile. "However, it would be better discussed once we are onboard the _Enterprise_. Will you perhaps join me in my quarters for a drink?"

As was custom, Kirk's grin was blindingly brilliant. "Of course, Spock. And for the love of god, call me Jim."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: As promised, here's your fiction!<em>

_This one may need a bit of explaining. I was watching some fan-made Spirk videos on YouTube, two of my favorites being set to Lady Gaga's "Monster" and "Starstruck." I wound up imagining a scene where Spock was in a nightclub with Kirk when these songs start playing, and this popped out. Honestly, it's probably better if you just listen to those songs and read the fiction. Lyrics weren't incorporated as tightly as I'd hoped I could do._

_Once again thanks to my beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x, **for putting up with the weekly idea factory; to **disciple65** for grammar editing; and many thanks to Lady Gaga for making these songs in the first place (cause I sure didn't). I also want to thank all my readers, and to those of you who have favorited my stories that I haven't been able to thank personally. You have no idea how much I enjoy writing for you, and seeing your faves in my inbox just makes me feel warm inside. Enjoy!_


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